


New York State of Mind

by javajunkie



Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: When Meade Publications buys Betty's magazine she returns to New York. It's a fresh start for Betty, but the ghosts of the past are not far behind. Particularly when one of those ghosts is her new boss. Detty





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a few years ago. It is complete, so I will be posting a new chapter every few days. Let me know if you enjoy this! I have other one-shots that I could post.

Back to Basics

The New York skyline was just like she remembered. She still felt that mix of wonderment and awe as she gazed up at all the towering skyscrapers. Two years in London had done some to temper the city-wonderment, but she would never lose the anxious thrum in the base of her belly when she stood in front of Meade Publication's headquarters. She felt like it was her first day all over again – complete with heavy bangs and her _Guadalajara_ poncho.

In a way it was her first day, again. But things had changed. She wasn't some fresh-from-college rube entering the wild jungle of fashion. That was something she never wished to experience again. She was now the editor-and-chief of a successful woman's magazine – one so successful, in fact, that Meade Publications had taken it under its publication umbrella.

Betty took a deep breath and tugged at the bottom of her suit jacket.

"You are an attractive, intelligent, confident business woman," she reminded herself softly.

But the nerves had little to do with her business skills, anymore. Those two years in London had built and solidified her confidence. She took an idea and with the help of her business partner Harry created a multimillion dollar magazine. No, her nerves had nothing to do with her work performance. It was something else - someone else, to be more exact. It was someone else with dark brown hair and a penchant for blue suits. It was also someone whose name graced the very building where she would spend many, many of her forthcoming days.

"You can do this," she said softly, walking through the lobby. She pressed her finger on the up button and waited impatiently. The more time she spent in open spaces inside the Meade building, the more opportunities there were for her to run into him. And although she promised herself that she would be professional, she didn't really want to run into him. At least not on the first day.

The doors opened and she slipped inside, pressing the button for the 15th floor. The doors slid closed and she was just about to let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding when a hand poked through at the last moment. The doors sprung opened and then there he was, looking just as she remembered with his dark hair and blue suit. He stood there for a moment, and the doors nearly closed again, but then he stepped forward and stood next to her.

"Hello Betty," Daniel said in a level voice.

"Hi Daniel."

She didn't know why this was so uncomfortable. It wasn't as if they hadn't spoken since he'd returned to New York. He had been an active participant in the negotiations before her and Harry signed over the magazine to Meade Publications. But then they had sales figures and advertising space to talk about, and there were at least three other people in the room to cover the tension.

"Ready for your first day?" he asked, voice formal. It was the same voice he'd used with Wilhelmina back in their Mode days, and it stung because she knew what that meant.

"I think we are," she returned, eyes trained on the elevator doors. She paused for a second and then glanced toward him. "It's strange to be back here, though."

He didn't say anything and she wanted so badly to step toward him and force whatever he was thinking out of him like before. She could always make him talk, but not anymore. Things were too different now.

"Daniel-"

The doors slid open on his floor and he mumbled a hasty "good luck" before slipping out. She stepped back and leaned heavily against the wall as the doors slid shut.

* * *

Running a magazine was hard work. She'd seen it firsthand at Mode, but she learned quickly that seeing it was very different than actually physically running the magazine. There was always something to do – an advertiser to court or a last minute layout to approve. She usually did it with Harry, but he'd elected to stay in London for the next few months and close up all the outstanding business there with the magazine. That meant the brunt of the new issue work fell on her shoulders, and it was a substantial weight.

She barely even knew it was lunchtime until Marc and Amanda showed up, practically dragging her from her desk to a sushi spot down the street. They sat in one of the corner tables, Amanda and Marc munching on edamame while she dug into her order of tempura crusted salmon rolls.

"Give us all the details," Amanda demanded, popping a soy bean into her mouth. Betty began to go into her day at work, but Marc cut her off with a wave of his hand and said, "Oh please, when have we ever cared about your work? Tell us about Daniel."

Betty frowned, stuffing a salmon roll into her mouth. She should have never told Marc and Amanda what happened.

"Don't think you can eat your way out of this," Marc pressed.

"It's not like we haven't seen you talk with a full mouth before," Amanda added. "You did it, like, all the time back at Mode."

"I did not," Betty returned impulsively through a full mouth.

Amanda shook her head. "Tragic. Anyway, give us all the dirty little details! Did you guys bang in the elevator? Oh! Or maybe you have a secret sex room like my awesomely awesome mom Faye Summers and you guys went at it in there!"

Betty shook her head. "We did not _bang_ anywhere. It's not like that."

"Anymore, you mean," Marc said. "Seriously, though, did you see him?"

"And was it awkward?" Amanda interjected. "Because I could definitely see it being awkward. Or, you know, sexual."

"Yes, I saw him. We were in the elevator together this morning."

"I knew there was elevator sex!" Amanda said triumphantly.

"There was no elevator sex," Betty said firmly. "There was just…awkwardness. And his Wilhelmina voice."

Marc gasped. "He used his Wilhelmina voice on you?"

Betty nodded. "He used his Wilhelmina voice on me."

Just the memory of it made her stomach twist. What happened to them? They had been close. He was her best friend, and she was pretty sure that she was his, too. Hell, he'd followed her to London. And then he left London. Because of her.

"I guess some awkwardness is expected," Marc said reasonably. "You did dine and ditch him."

"I did not dine and ditch him."

"Betty," Amanda said slowly. "You slept with him and then told him you wanted to be just friends. You dine and ditched him."

"Is it so bad that I wanted to just be friends? I have a right to feel the way that I feel."

Betty knew she was being stubborn, and she also knew that someone who only wanted to be friends didn't sleep with said friend. But she was missing home, and he was there, and the mixture of the wine and his deft hands made her forget a lot of things, namely why what they shouldn't have been doing what they were doing, and then it happened.

"I still can't believe you did it," Marc said. "I have to say, when you told me, I was a little proud." He glanced at Amanda and added, "Our little Mexican bird is growing up."

"I don't know what to do," Betty lamented. "I don't know how to make it right."

"You can't," Marc said. "This is something he has to move past. And, since it's been almost two years…"

"It's pretty unlikely he will ever want to look or speak to me again," Betty finished glumly. "But then why would he buy my magazine? If he hates me that much, why?"

"Because Daniel is a smart business man," Amanda filled in, garnering a snort from Marc.

"Probably more like Claire suggested it and then pushed until he said yes," Marc said. "If anyone was on your side here, Betty, it was Claire Meade. She liked you even before you got rid of those God-awful bangs."

"They were not that bad," Betty argued.

"Really Betty? Do you need us to show you a picture to jog that awful memory?"

Betty gave him a look. They weren't _that_ bad. Would she want to have them again? No, but that was more a marker of her evolution of style than anything else. They weren't – okay, they were pretty bad.

"Anyway, I just wish things weren't so awkward. I thought maybe being in the same city...I don't know…"

"You'd pick up where you left off like nothing happened?"

Betty shrugged. "Kind of?"

"Betty, things changed before you slept together," Marc said. "He left Mode for you."

"I know," Betty said glumly.

"He flew all the way to _London_ to be with you."

Amanda sighed. "I forgot how romantic that was."

"So, basically I'm screwed?"

Together Amanda and Marc returned, "Basically."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Betty sat at her desk, chatting excitedly on her phone with Hilda as she gazed adoringly down at the glossy magazine on her desk. Typically her desk was filled with miscellaneous papers and other odds and ends that made it nearly impossible to find whatever it was she actually needed, but today she had taken the time to clean it off. Her first issue with Meade Publications deserved a clean desk.

"I can't believe it," Betty gushed, grinning wide. "It's here. It's actually here."

"I'm so proud of you, Betty," Hilda said. "You're going to get us lots of issues, right? Papi wants to frame one."

Betty glanced at the tote bag propped up against the side of her desk and said, "I've already got a bag put together."

"Good. Bobby wanted some, too, to pass out at work."

"Don't worry, you'll have more than enough to pass around Queens."

"We're just so proud of you, babe. I mean, you really did it. Your first issue on your own. See, I told you that you didn't need that Harry guy after all."

"Be nice," Betty admonished lightly. Hilda had never been a big fan of Betty's business partner. She thought he was arrogant, which was partially true, but Betty knew better. Half of it was an act to get ahead in the magazine industry, the other half a coping mechanism from the terror he'd withstood as a junior editor at British Vogue for three years. She'd heard horror stories from him about that editor and chief that made Wilhelmina look like a puppy. While it had taken a bit for them to warm to each other, they'd grown to be close friends and she knew the magazine wouldn't have been possible without him.

"Alright, alright," Hilda said, the yield evident in her voice. Betty heard a loud crash on Hilda's line and a moment later a sharp piercing scream that belonged to her nephew.

"Hilda, what happened?" Betty asked immediately, imagining her nephew in all sorts of situations that she'd rather he not be in.

"It's nothing," Hilda said, the sound of her son's cries loud behind her. "Ricky just knocked over a lamp again. I swear that kid is going to ruin this house. I gotta go."

"Okay, tell Bobby I said hi."

"I will. Bye, hon."

"Bye Hilda."

She hung up her phone and turned her attention back down to her magazine, slowly running her finger down the spine.

"You know, you should close your door if you're going to get all intimate with your magazine," Amanda said from the doorway. Betty glanced up, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not getting intimate with my magazine. That's weird…and I'm pretty sure anatomically impossible."

"Whatever. So, I am here on important stylist business."

"Okay."

"What are you wearing for your launch party tonight?"

"Probably just a dress or something. I haven't really thought about it a lot."

In fact, she'd done her best to actively _not_ think about it. While she appreciated the fact that there was a party essentially being thrown for her, she also appreciated the fact that Daniel would be there, and since they still hadn't held a full conversation since she'd returned to New York, she was not too keen on being around him. The only consolation was that there'd be lots of other people there to distract her. And alcohol.

"Well, you are just in luck because I happen to be a stylist. And I am going to make you the hottest editor Meade Publications has ever seen."

Betty's eyes widened. Amanda was, indeed, a stylist (and a successful one at that) but the way she dressed her clients wasn't exactly the way Betty would dress. Especially in public.

"Oh, Amanda, you don't have to-"

"I know I don't," Amanda said simply. "I want to. This is your launch party, Betty. You need to look hot. And with me on your side, there's like…a seventy five percent chance that will happen."

Betty gave her a look.

"What? I'm not a miracle worker. Anyway, I will be at your apartment at seven o'clock. Take out some dresses you think you'd like to wear. And then after I reject them all, we'll get to work."

"Why would I take any dresses out if you're going to reject them all?"

Amanda slowly explained, "I've found that clients like it when they feel involved in the dressing process."

"Even if you reject everything?"

"It's my job to reject their style. That's why they hired me."

Betty was going to question that, but then decided against it. She sighed, planting her palms down on the desk as she said, "Alright, seven o'clock it is."

Amanda practically beamed.

* * *

Betty left the office at six o'clock, figuring she had just enough time to pick up dinner, eat, and choose the selection of dresses that Amanda would promptly reject at seven. She mentally was going through her closet when she stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, and the elevator descended. The doors jumped open against just when she thought of her favorite pink shift dress.

"Betty, hi."

Daniel stepped inside the elevator, gaze squarely on the closing elevator doors. Betty swallowed hard and said, "Hi Daniel."

They were quiet for a moment until she impulsively asked, "Are you coming to the launch party tonight?"

"You mean your launch party?" he asked, smirk evident in his voice. It almost felt like old times and it made her stomach hurt.

"Yeah," she said, laughing a bit. "My launch party. God, it feels so weird to say that."

"Hey, you earned it," he said. "I looked through your first issue. It's really good."

She glanced over at him. "You looked through it?"

He seemed to stiffen at that, and she could practically see his spine straighten as he said, "Yes. I wanted to make sure our investment will pay off. You weren't cheap to buy."

She glanced back at the doors, nodding to herself. "Right. Of course."

The doors slid open and he hung back as she walked out. From behind her he said, "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah," she said, voice unnaturally loud. "Tonight."

She suddenly wished he wouldn't be there. This was her night, and his presence as ruining everything. She should be celebrating. She should be excited that she'd achieved as much as she had, and instead she was stupidly wondering what he'd think of whatever Amanda put her in and who he was bringing. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"I'm going to need a lot of alcohol."

* * *

True to her word, that night Amanda rejected all five dresses that Betty had laid out on her bed.

"Please tell me you weren't serious about those. Because, otherwise, I'm going to have to take back anything nice I've said about your style recently."

"You haven't said anything nice," Betty deadpanned. Amanda laughed a bit and said, "Oh, you're right! But, I'm serious Betty. These are awful. Like, really awful."

"Well, then work your stylist magic."

"It's not magic," Amanda said seriously. "It's skill developed from years of close Vogue reading. And, of course, my fashion genes from my mother Faye Summers."

Before Betty could even respond to that ridiculousness Amanda had turned and made her way into the closet. She rifled through the hangers with the sort of dogged determination that Betty imagined military snipers exhibited on missions. Amanda went through the hangers deftly, usually not spending more than a few seconds looking at each garment. She paused on a bright orange cardigan and shook her head.

"My God, Betty, this is worse than I thought."

She continued her search, beginning to pull out garments. She handed them back to Betty without a word, attention focused fully on the hangers before her. After a few minutes Betty was nearly toppling over from the mass of clothing in her arms. Amanda instructed her to place them on the bed, and then she began forming outfits. Twenty minutes later Betty was standing in front of her full-length mirror in an oversized shirt belted over a pencil skirt. She looked like a secretary who just left from doing something very dirty with her boss.

"I don't think this is my look," Betty said carefully.

"What? You look hot. Seriously. If I were a guy, I would totally bang you."

"It's just not my style," Betty said. "How about we try another look?"

"Fine," Amanda sighed.

The next look was a silky pajama top over cigarette trousers. Amanda seemed to like this look even better than the last, Betty was less convinced.

"Seriously, Betty, let me do my job."  
"How about you dress me in a way that doesn't scream 'I just had sex and grabbed the nearest thing'?"

"It's a good look," Amanda argued.

"Yeah, maybe on some people but not on me. Come on, Amanda, you know me. You know my style."

"Or lack there of," Amanda said snidely.

"Amanda," Betty warned.

"Ugh, fine," Amanda said, giving in. "I'll dress you like…you."

She went back into the closet, muttering just loud enough so that Betty could hear every offensive thing. Betty couldn't complain about the outfit she was in ten minutes later, though. It was a simple black cocktail dress that she'd gotten for a wedding back in London. Amanda paired it with cream heels and a deep red belt that went with one of her suits. The finishing touch was a pearl headband Betty had bought on a whim at a London boutique and never worn. She hadn't known how to pair it, yet within three minutes Amanda had put it with the perfect outfit.

"It's not my favorite look," Amanda said, scrutinizing the finished product in the mirror. "But it'll work."

"Amanda, it's perfect," Betty said, eyes tearing up just a little. She turned around and enveloped the diminutive blonde in a tight hug. Amanda laughed, gently prying herself away as she said, "Don't cry, you'll make your face blotchy. And speaking of your face, and blotchiness, I better help out with your makeup."

* * *

Marc lounged at one of the high-top tables, casually drinking a flute of champagne. He caught sight of Betty and Amanda and smiled wide, setting his drink down on the table.

"Well, aren't you a hot little chalupa tonight," he said.

"Thanks Marc," Betty said, laughing. "This is all Amanda, though. She styled me."

"It was a challenge, but I rose to it," Amanda said loftily.

"Did you ever. So, Betty, you see the cake with your face on it yet?"

"There's a cake with my face on it?" Betty said loudly. "Where?"

Marc pointed evasively in a direction and Betty ran off toward it.

"There's not actually a cake with her face on it, is there?" Amanda asked gingerly, nose scrunched.

"God no. That would be terrifying." Marc watched Betty dart around the room and sighed, tilting his head to the side. "Ah, look at her waddle. It's just like old times."

Betty looked around, trying to find the cake with her face on it. Her attention diverted, she didn't see Wilhelmina in front of her until she nearly collided with the statuesque woman.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Betty gushed, cheeks flushing.

"It's alright, Betty," Wilhelmina said, straightening up.

"It's just that Mark told me there's a cake with my face on it and –"

"I can assure you, Betty, that there is not a cake with your face on it," Wilhelmina interrupted, glancing over Betty's shoulder at their attentive audience. "My, it really is like old times."

"Huh?" Betty glanced over her shoulder and Amanda waved while Marc raised his drink in a silent salute. Betty turned back, frowning. "Oh. So, there really isn't a cake with my face on it?"

"No, Betty. This isn't Chuckee Cheese. Anyway, I was coming over here to congratulate you on your first issue."

"Oh, thank you," Betty said, reaching up and readjusting her glasses. It was strange to get a compliment from Wilhelmina Slater. It was like seeing one of your professors out at the local Walmart. One just didn't belong with the other. "I read through it. You have some smart pieces in there."

"That's what we do," Betty answered with a small grin. No matter how many times people mentioned her magazine, she would never tire of talking it up. "Smart pieces that empower women. Pieces that inspire women."

"Well, you've certainly achieved that. I'm impressed. And you know I don't impress easily."

"No, you don't."

Wilhelmina's lips pressed into a smirk of sort and Betty felt her stomach clench. A smirking Wilhelmina was always a dangerous thing. "Anway, welcome back to Meade."

Wilhelmina raised her champagne flute in a parting gesture and slid away into the crowd. A waiter passed Betty with a tray of salmon puffs and Betty took one, popping it in her mouth as she returned to Marc and Amanda's table.

"Very funny guys," Betty said, taking Marc's champagne flute and taking a sip. Mark frowned and went, "Hey, get your own, alkie."

Betty put down the drink and at that moment Daniel Meade walked into the room with a tall brunette on his arm. Her hair was wavy perfection, reaching down to the middle of her back. The gold dress she wore skimmed her curves and accentuated her impossibly tiny waist.

"I see Daniel's back to his old ways," Betty remarked, sounding more bitter than she'd intended. She watched the woman turn in toward Daniel to whisper something in his hair, her hand resting casually on his chest. It was then that she noticed the ring.

"Daniel's engaged?" Betty stammered.

Marc winced while Amanda hid in her flute of champagne.

"Yeah," he said. "We might have forgotten to mention that part."

Betty gaped at him. "You think?"

She snatched her purse off the table and Amanda jumped. As she walked away Betty could hear Amanda say, "I forgot how fiery-Latina she gets when she'd mad."

She wasn't mad. That was an overstatement. She was just irritated, because Daniel being engaged is something she should have known. They should have told her. Hell, Daniel should have told her. But instead she was being blind-sided by it at a party that was supposed to be for her. This was her night, and Daniel was high-jacking it.

"Betty!"

Betty turned around, forcing a smile when she saw Claire Meade walking toward her. Claire hugged her tightly.

"Congratulations, Betty," Claire said, practically beaming with pride. "I knew you had it in you. From the first time I met you, I knew you were an editor."

"Thank you, Mrs. Meade."

"And, I must say, it is nice to have you around here again." Claire glanced over Betty's shoulder and added, "I'm not the only one who feels that way, either. Despite what appearances may say."

Betty didn't have to look over her shoulder to know to whom Claire was referring. She didn't know what to say for a moment and settled for, "It's good to be back. I missed New York."

"I bet your family is glad to have you back."

"Oh, my dad is beside himself," Betty said. "He's already had me over for dinner four times."

"Parents like to dote on their children. It's what we're here for, after all." Betty grinned. "Well, dear, I won't hog you. You enjoy your party."

"Thank you, Mrs. Meade."

She walked out into the crowd, nodding hello to people as she passed. She tried to enjoy herself - really she did – but she seemed to see Daniel everywhere. Giving up for the moment, she walked out into the hallway to escape to the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror, studying her reflection. Amanda had given her a deep red lip and cat-eyes. It wasn't something she would wear on her own, but it did accentuate her fine features. After she spent the stretch of what was an appropriate amount of time in the bathroom, she took a deep breath and walked outside. Right at that moment Daniel was leaving the men's bathroom, and she wondered why her life was a running joke.

"Daniel," she stammered, wondering why she was incapable of using full sentences around him anymore.

"Hello Betty. Great party."

"Thank you. It's, uh, it's really something in there, huh? No cake with my face on it, though. You should think about that for future launch parties. Cakes with faces are really big…like…all the time."

Great. She couldn't talk before and now she couldn't stop. She thought Daniel would look at her like she was crazy but instead he laughed, the sound something that she hadn't realized she missed.

"Thank you for laughing at my rambling," she said, shifting uncomfortably.

"I've missed your rambling," he said off-handedly. He paused for a second and she could see him shut down as he realized that they were actually having a decent interaction.

"I should get back in there," he said.

"Right. Me too. It's my launch party, after all."

"Yeah."

As they walked in she couldn't stop herself from saying, "I heard congratulations are in order for you."

"Excuse me?" he said, glancing down at her.

"Your engagement?"

He looked away, jaw tightening. "Oh, thanks."

"Is it recent?"

He nodded. "Last month."

"I saw you guys walk in," she said, trying hard for civility. See, she could do this. She could be nice and civil and hold a nice and civil conversation. Easy as pie. "She looks lovely."

"She is," he said, nodding. "She's um…yeah. She's great."

"I'm happy for you." He didn't say anything and she reached over and touched his arm. "I really am, Daniel."

He glanced down at her again, face still guarded. There was a sliver of a smile, though, and he nodded and said, "Thanks, Betty. Well, I should…"

"Me too," she said. "It was nice seeing you."

"You too, Betty."

Daniel walked away Betty stood there, watching him go. Amanda and Marc appeared at her side and began firing off questions.

"What just happened? Did you guys talk?"

"Yeah, did you guys talk?" Amanda echoed. "Or have elevator sex again?"

Betty took a deep breath, watching Daniel put his arm around his beautiful fiancee's waist. "I need a drink."


	3. Chapter 3

Betty sat in the Meade Publications cafeteria, eating a quick lunch between feature shoots, when Amanda plopped down in the seat across from Betty, Marc not far behind her.

"Hi guys," Betty said, shooting them a close-mouthed smile from around her half-chewed-ham-sandwich.

"Betty, we are here with some important information for you," Amanda began, leaning forward and voice low. Betty leaned in similarly, bite now swallowed, and asked, "Alright, why are we whispering?"

"There are spies everywhere," Marc whispered. "Or at least there used to be when I worked for Wilhelmina."

"Really?" Betty asked, eyes wide.

"Oh yeah, we had this place locked down. Anyway, we have some information on Daniel's bride-to-be."

"Okay, and this conversation is done," Betty said, voice full volume as she straightened in her seat.

"Betty," Marc hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Daniel's personal life is exactly that… _personal_. I'm not getting involved."

"Well of course you're not," Marc said dismissively. "You've never pulled off a sneaky move in your life. That is what you have Amanda and I for."

"I don't want to pull any sneaky moves," Betty said. "I'm happy for Daniel."

"Lies," Marc said loudly.

"Total lie," Amanda echoed. "You're just _pretending_ that you're happy for him. It's like that time I was sleeping with this guy and I totally thought I was okay with him having a wife. But I wasn't."

"You slept with a guy who had a wife?" Betty said, voice tinted with outrage. Amanda shrugged.

"He gave me lots of pretty things."

"Come on, Betty, you don't even want to know what we found."

"No, I don't," Betty said, finishing her sandwich. "Whatever plan you two have concocted, shut it down. We're not scheming today. Or tomorrow." She stood up and added, "Or any day for that matter. Don't you guys have any real work to do?"

Amanda gasped. "Take that back. This is real work."

Betty rolled her eyes. "I have a photoshoot to oversee. Are we still having drinks after work?"

"Fine," Marc sighed. "But I swear to God if you try to wing-woman me again I will strangle you with my ascot."

"That guy was totally into you last weekend."

"He also had about three chins," Marc retorted. "Stick to what you're good at, Betty."

"I think you're being too harsh on him."

"Yeah, and he was too harsh on that case of donuts he packed away before going out. Seriously, Betty. You are banned from wing-womaning me ever again. That's Amanda's job."

"And I do damn good job of it," Amanda piped in.

"That you do," Marc said, beaming down at the tiny blonde. "Alright, I need to go back upstairs. Just the smell of this cafeteria is giving me hives and cellulite on my ass. We'll see you later."

* * *

The photo shoot was a disaster. The wrong clothes had been sent to the office, and Betty struggled to make sense of all the spandex and leopard print. She had never seen so many fashion disasters on one rack. It all reeked of high fashion, the cloying colors and textures that she never quite understood.

"I have a feeling these aren't for the Army Mom spread," her assistant Regina said. She appraised the racks of clothes hesitantly, as if she feared one wrong move would cause the leather stirrups on the end to leap off the rack and strangle her.

"No, they're definitely not," Betty said, frowning. "Why don't you call the fashion department, and…"

She trailed off when she saw a tall brunette rushing forward, all silk and legs as she quickly walked over to them. Betty recognized her as Danny's fiancé, and she swallowed hard before saying, "Hi, can I help you?"

"These are mine," she said breathlessly, hand clamped over the top pole of the rack. "Or, they're Mode's, actually. The clothes for our shoots got switched. We have yours. These are ours."

"Oh, okay," Betty said, feeling a marginal release in her chest. At least one problem as solved. The woman ran her finger through her hair haphazardly and the light caught the elegant princess cut diamond on her ring finger.

"Yours should be down any minute," the girl said, talking fast. "I texted Gina upstairs, and she said she's sending it. I'm supposed to stay down here and guard the clothes. Like anyone would actually take them. Anyway, sorry for the mixup."

"It's fine," Betty said immediately. "I'm just happy we located our clothes. These aren't exactly army mom chic."

The girl laughed, the sound disarmingly loud. "They aren't chic, period." Her eyes widened a bit and she quickly added, "Please don't let that get back to Wilhelmina. I'm already on her hit list because I wore flats to the office yesterday."

Betty laughed, remembering all the fashion mishits that had landed her directly in Wilhelmina's fur-trimmed-path.

"I'm Reed, by the way," the girl said, extending a hand. Betty paused for just a moment before reaching forward and grasping her hand. Reed's handshake was surprisingly firm.

"Betty," she returned. "It's great to meet you. So, you work at Mode?"

Reed nodded. "I'm Daniel's assistant."

It was fortuitous that Betty's clothes came at that moment, because without the interruption she would have been left there with her mouth open, unable to come up with a single word.

"And here are your clothes!" Reed said happily. "Sorry again about the mixup. Hopefully we didn't get you too off schedule. Anyway, great meeting you!"

Reed hurried off with Gina and the rack of clothes and Betty forced out, "You too."

"You know she's engaged to Daniel," her assistant Regina said, unaware of the fact that, yes, Betty knew that and right now Reed, Daniel, and anything else involving them was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

"Yes, I did."

"It's crazy, right? He's marrying his assistant. It's sort of tacky, but then you see them together, and the way he looks at her-"

"Let's make sure we have all the clothes here," Betty interrupted. "And then we can get the models ready."

"Sure thing," Regina chirped. She went through the rack, item by item, and said, "Her name is going to be awful, though."

"Huh?" Betty said, glancing up from the other side of the rack.

"Reed Meade?" she said, snorting afterwards. "That has to be the worst name in the history of names."

"Yeah," Betty said softly, shaking her head. "It sure is."

* * *

Later that day Betty headed out of the Meade building, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck as the cold New York air seeped through her skin. She didn't miss New York winters in London. Sure, it was always damp in London and she often combated a halo of frizz from the never-ending-rain, but nothing was quite as frigid as a New York winter.

She stood on the corner, waiting for a cab to come around. It was rush hour, and every cab seemed to already have someone in the back. Finally she was considering reverting to the subway when a black sedan pulled to a stop in front of her. The door opened and Claire Meade was there, smiling a bit as she said, "Do you need a ride, dear?"

She shook her head immediately and said, "I was actually just getting a cab."

"It's rush hour, you'll never get one," she said. "Come on, Betty, get inside."

She hesitated for just a moment before stepping forward and ducking down into the car. She moved over to the other side of the town car and she grasped the seatbelt, pulling it over her front and fastening it beside her hips.

"Thank you," she said as the car pulled away from the curb. "It was getting pretty cold out there."

"I know. New York winters." Claire smiled delicately and finished with, "They're a bitch."

Betty laughed. "That they are."

"Where to, Betty?" Claire said, nodding toward the driver who was looking back at them expectantly.

"Oh, um, Harper Street Bar," Betty said. Claire raised her eyebrows and Betty told her, "I'm meeting Marc and Amanda for drinks."

"I don't suppose you could get my son to join you sometime?"

Betty bit the inside of her cheek and said, "No, I…uh…don't suppose I could."

"He's been working too much lately," Claire said, resting her elbow on the windowsill. "I worry about him. He hardly ever goes out. He needs to see people."

"I'm not exactly sure I'm the person he'd want to see."

"Yes, I've noticed something different between you two," Claire said, studying Betty's face. "Not something bad, necessarily. But different."

"We've just grown apart," Betty said, parroting the same thing she told herself when she thought too much about it all. "It happens. One person moves away and you lose contact. You become busy. That sort of thing."

"Yes, that sort of thing," Claire returned softly. She glanced out the window and added, "But, of course, I always thought it had something to do with London."

Betty made a sort of strangled noise at that, and quickly covered it as a cough. "Wh-what?"

"I'm not stupid, Betty," Claire said. "I know that something happened in London. I don't know what. Daniel never told and I never asked. But, he was different when he came back."

Betty shook her head and said, " I really don't know what to tell you, Mrs. Meade-"

"I want you to tell me you'll make it right," Claire interrupted, voice soft but imploring. "He needs someone like you in his life, Betty. You know he does."

The car pulled up to the bar and Betty had never been so happy to see the Harper Street Bar sign in her life.

"Promise me you'll talk to him," Claire implored, hand on Betty's arm. "Please, just try?"

"I will," Betty said. She opened the door and said, "Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Meade."

"My pleasure, dear. Enjoy your night."

Betty climbed out of the car and walked up to the bar, glancing back at the street to watch the town car pull away. She showed the bouncer her ID and then walked in, easily spotting Amanda and Marc at a corner table. Amanda was dancing in her seat, hair bouncing around her head as she moved with the music. She stopped when she saw Betty and grinned wide, sending her a frenetic wave.

"Way to be late, Betty," she said. "You missed a total Jack Black trying to hit on Marc. It was hilarious."

"Sorry, I couldn't get a cab. And then, Claire Meade offered me a ride in her town car and proceeded to grill me about what happened with Daniel in London."

"No way," Marc gasped. "What did you say?"

"Nothing really. I mean, I can't tell her what actually happened. That would be mortifying."

"Yeah, mothers don't usually take well to people screwing over their children," Marc reasoned. He caught Betty's unhappy gaze and said, "What? You _were_ sort of douche-ey, Betty. Admit it."

"I didn't mean to be," she said in a small voice. "Anyway, I'm going to promptly drown that memory in a nice amaretto sour."

"That's my girl," Marc said happily. "Drowning her sorrows in sugary, high calorie drinks."

Betty grinned a bit. A waiter came over and Betty gave him her drink order. As he walked away Betty said, "So, I met Daniel's fiancé today."

"You did? What do you think of her?" Amanda asked immediately. "She sort of seemed all Kate Moss when I first met her, but then when I saw her more, I started to think she was more Sienna Miller."

Betty gaped at her. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, ignore her!" Marc said, seemingly swatting away Amanda's previous utterance with his hand. "Did you like her?"

"I didn't want to," Betty admitted. "But, she was nice. And surprisingly normal. She seemed like someone I could actually be friends with."

"Gross," Marc said immediately. "You cannot be potential-friends with the girl marrying the man you love."

Betty's eyes widened and she went, "Wait, hold on. I don't –"

"You need to be less nice, Betty! I don't care how Midwestern-friendly-apple-pie-at-the-front-door this girl is. She is not your friend. She is your enemy. And please, for the love of all thing Marc Jacobs, let Amanda and I take her down!"

"No, I'm not…" Betty trailed off in frustration, "…there is so much wrong with what you said in the last thirty seconds, I don't even know where to begin!"

"Even though he's obviously still pissed at you, that's only because he is equally obviously still in love with you. And you, Betty Suarez, love him even if you're too stupid to realize it. Luckily, you have Amanda and I here to point it out to you."

"Yeah," Amanda said, taking a sip of her vodka tonic. "You're totally in love with him."

"I am not," Betty argued. "He was important to me, yeah. He was my best friend. But…" she trailed off, remembering for the first time in a long while the feel of his mouth against hers. His lips had been soft and gentle. He always was such a dynamic person, but in that moment he had been almost completely still. It was as if he were afraid that moving would break the moment. It wasn't until she'd reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth down firmer against hers, that he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her body against his.

"Oh crap," she murmured, taking Amanda's drink and downing it. Amanda unhappily went to grab it back but Marc stopped her, shaking his head slightly.

"You okay over there, Betty?" he asked gently. "Life changing realizations can be a real bitch, huh?"


	4. Chapter 4

In the wake of her realization, Betty threw herself into work. It just so happened that preparations for the next issue had gone into high drive, and Betty took advantage of the maelstrom of projects, edits, and anything else that was thrown in her path. With her mind stretched in so many directions, she didn't have time to think about trivial thinks like how she may or may not be in love with Daniel Meade. Nope. No time. No time at all. She found herself, actually, with no time for things outside of work. She skipped Friday night dinners with her dad twice and Hilda had all about given up trying to make plans with her because Betty either already had something scheduled, or canceled at the last minute.

"Do you ever leave this office?" Marc asked, standing at her doorway. "You're starting to look like one of those pale, sad workers in a Vietnamese sweatshop."

"We had really great numbers on last month's issue," Betty said crisply. "I want to capitalize on that success. So, we get an even better issue out."

"I literally have no idea what you just said," Marc said, shaking his coiffed head. "I stopped listening at 'really great numbers'."

Betty smirked. "What do you want, Marc?"

"Just wanted to see how you are," Marc said evasively. "I noticed this radio silence started after –"

"Don't say it," Betty said quickly, voice high. She leaned forward and lowered her voice as she said, "This space…see this space?" She waved her hand around in front of her. "This space is a Daniel Meade free space."

"You're being ridiculous," Marc deadpanned. "But I will respect your decision to keep this a –"

"Ah!" Betty said, holding up her hand.

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic," he griped. "Anyway, I'm also here for staples. We're out upstairs."

"Don't you have an office manager for that?" she asked, already beginning to rifle in her cabinet. He shrugged and held his hand out for the staples. She dropped them in and asked, "Anything else you need?"

"Not right now," he said easily, stuffing the box of staples in the pocket of his paisley shirt. "But I'll come back if I think of something."

She smirked. "Well, thank you for checking up on me. But I really have to get back to work."

Marc flitted back to the Mode floor and Betty buried herself in her work again. Her phone buzzed and she saw Hilda's name flashing on the screen. She hesitated for a moment before clicking the call off and pushing her phone to the side. With a sigh, she went back to work.

A few hours later she had been staring at the same layout for so long that her eyeballs actually felt dry. The pages bled into each other and she couldn't remember which scenes she'd looked at and hadn't.

"Coffee," she murmured to herself. "Coffee will help."

Usually she just made coffee in the office but she had a taste for a salted caramel mocha at the café across the street. Yes, it would take extra time, but she reasoned that the extra sugar and caffeine made it well worth it. She stood up from her desk and arched her back for a moment before grabbing her coat from the back of her chair and heading out.

She pressed the button for the elevator and her phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out and saw that Hilda was calling again.

"Hello?" she said, answering the phone.

"Betty! What-"

"I know, I didn't answer," she interrupted, stepping forward when the elevator dinged. The doors slid open and her stomach twisted when she saw Daniel there. She nodded to him as she continued, "I have been absolutely swamped with work. I – "

"Betty, stop talking! Did you listen to my messages?"

"No, sorry, I meant to but then I got caught up in stuff, and –"

"Betty -" Hilda's voice broke up into loud garbles and Betty pulled the phone away from her ear with a wince.

"Hello?" she tried, still hearing loud garbling static. "Hello? Hilda? Crap."

She hung up and Daniel said, "The reception in these elevators suck."

"Yeah," she said, grasping the phone in her hand.

"So, how've you been?" he asked as the elevator slid downwards. Her stomach flew up to her throat, and it had little to do with the elevator's movement. She could smell his aftershave in the small elevator compartment, and she remembered her face nestled in the crook of his neck, that aftershave mingling with another scent that was entirely him.

"I'm good," she said, forcing a smile up at him. "Busy on the next issue."

"Yeah," he said, nodding and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "The work never stops coming, huh?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Now you know just how much work I avoided my first year here."

She laughed, the genuineness of it warming her all the way to her toes. It was nice to be like this again. Laughing and joking.

"I heard about the clothes mixup, by the way," Daniel said. "Sorry about that."

She nodded. "Yeah, my Army Moms almost ended up in zebra stripes and leather jeggings."

Daniel feigned a wince and said, "I'm glad we avoided that."

She laughed. "Yeah, me too."

The doors slid open and he gestured for her to walk out first. She grinned at him thankfully and glanced down at her phone, seeing that a new message from Hilda flashed on the screen. She called into her voicemail and listened to Hilda's panicked voice. She didn't even realize that she'd stopped walking, but then Daniel was beside her, concern etched on his face as he asked her something.

"Betty," he said, jogging her from whatever holding pattern she'd found herself in. All she could hear was her sister's voice, loud crying in the background.

"Betty, are you okay?"

"The hospital," she mumbled, hand grasping the strap of her purse tightly. Maybe if she held on tight enough she wouldn't fall apart. "I need to get to the hospital."

"The hospital – what?"

"I…I need to get a cab," she stammered, rushing toward the street. She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet, hand trembling. He was beside her again and telling her to take his town car. She shook her head, because for some reason she couldn't figure out how he would get home then, seemingly forgetting about all those other modes of transportation, but he insisted.

"It will get you there faster," he pressed.

"Okay," she said softly, wiping at her nose. "Okay, I'll take the town car."

He opened the door for her and she slid in. She was shivering, and she couldn't tell if it was from the cold. Daniel hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Do you want me to come with?"

She pressed her lips together, tears filling her eyes. Unable to speak, she nodded and he climbed in, closing the door behind him. She told the driver which hospital to go to and they continued on in silence. After a while she said, "It's my Dad. He had another heart attack."

"He'll be okay. Your dad's a fighter."

"I haven't been home as much," Betty murmured, wiping at her nose again. "I haven't been calling like I used to."

"Launching a magazine is difficult work."

"I skipped our weekly dinners," she said, turning her gaze toward the window so that he couldn't see her cry. "I never skipped those dinners. My dad loved those dinners."

"I'm sure he understands that you have a lot going on," Daniel said. "Your dad knows that."

She shook her head, willing herself to stop crying but unable to obey. "I should have been there. Maybe I would have noticed something. Maybe…" she trailed off, chin pressed against her chest as sob racked through her body. It was too much. The stress of the job, and Daniel, and now her dad. It was all too much.

She leaned against him and he took a hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. She forgot how comforting just his presence could be. Sure, she'd depended on him quite a lot during her Mode days, but when she'd gone to London she'd learned to depend on herself. It was nice to have someone to lean on again, if only for the car ride.

"He's going to be fine," Daniel said resolutely. "He's going to be fine, Betty."

The hospital was filled with the usual hustle and bustle of patients and hospital personnel. Nurses rushed around the floor while doctors strolled by on their way to their next patient. Betty quickly made her way to the information desk, Daniel on her heels.

"I need a room number," Betty stammered. "Ignacio Suarez. He…he came in a bit ago with a heart attack?"

"Okay," the receptionist said. "One moment."

"Betty?"

She turned around and Hilda rushed toward her, throwing her arms around Betty tightly. Hilda's gold hoop earrings pressed uncomfortably against Betty's cheek as Hilda breathed out, "Thank God you're here."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I know you left me all those messages and –"

"You're here now," Hilda said, eyes watery. "You're here now." She glanced over at Daniel, who was standing a respectful distance from the, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. "Hey there, Daniel. It's good to see you again. It's been a while, huh?"

"Daniel drove me here," Betty filled in, catching his gaze and then quickly looking away. She was mildly embarrassed from how she'd acted on the drive there. She shouldn't have broken down like that and she definitely shouldn't have used him as a human pillow.

"That was real nice of you, Daniel," Hilda said. She gestured toward both of them as she said, "Come on, Bobby and Justin are over in the waiting room."

Hilda walked off toward the waiting room and Betty and Daniel hung back.

"I'm okay now," Betty told Daniel softly, wanting to give him an out. They weren't really friends anymore, and staying with someone at the hospital was definitely a friend thing. "You don't have to stay."

It wasn't until she said that aloud that she realized just how much she did want him to stay. She wanted nothing more than for him to walk with them to the waiting room, and tell her for the umpteenth time that her dad was going to be okay. And to her relief he shook his head and told her, "I want to stay."

Her eyes softened and she murmured, "Okay, thanks."

Daniel cleared his throat and said, "Of course. Your dad's a good guy. I, uh, want to make sure he has people here for him."

"Right," Betty said, nodding. The implication in what he said was clear. He was there for Ignacio, not her. "Well, we better catch up with Hilda."

BBBBBBB

"They're having it set in modern day New York, which I think is, like, the worst idea ever. The period-ness of West Side Story is one of the best parts," Justin told Betty, sitting with her in the waiting room. It had been another hour, and still they hadn't heard anything from the doctor. Bobby and Hilda sat a few seats away, Hilda absentmindedly bouncing Ricky on her knee as her and Bobby spoke in low tones. Daniel sat beside Betty, pretending to listen to Justin. Betty could tell from his listless stare that he couldn't repeat a word her nephew said over the past twenty minutes.

"Can you imagine America without those fabulous 50s swing dresses?" Justin continued. "It's going to be a complete disaster. I tried to tell the director that, but he just went on about how West Side Story has this timeless story that can be adapted to any era. Which is totally wrong, because what makes the show so wonderful is the fact that it does take place in the 1950s."

"Yeah," Betty said evasively, glancing at Daniel. He was hunched forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped.

"Oh, and you should see what they did to Maria's white party dress. You know, the one she wears when her and Tony meet?"

Betty nodded. "Sure, the one with the red sash."

"They changed it to this white tube dress and red heels. When I saw it I almost dropped out right on the spot."

"That does sound awful," Betty admitted.

"And that is why you shouldn't mess with the classics," Justin said with a note of finality. He grew silent, glancing over at Bobby and his mom. Bobby had his arm around Hilda's shoulder, the latter dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Betty looked at Justin and noted the drawn, tired shadows on his face. He'd been so animated while talking about his show, but she saw now it had only been a façade.

"Grandpa's going to be okay, right?" he asked in a soft voice. "I mean, it was pretty scary. We were over there for dinner, and he just fell over."

Betty swallowed hard. "Yeah, Justin, Grandpa's going to be fine. He…" she trailed off, remembering what Daniel had said in the car. "…he's a fighter."

She glanced toward Daniel and their eyes met.

"You know why your Grandpa is going to be okay?" Daniel said, drawing Justin's attention. "Because he has a great family like yours. No one wants to let go of something like that. He'll come back to you guys."

Justin gave him a watery smile, nodding as he reached up and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Daniel shifted in his seat and said, "You guys want a coffee or something? I think I'm going to head down to the cafeteria."

"Can I have a diet Coke?" Justin said.

"Yeah, sure Justin."

"I'll come with you," Betty said, standing up. "I think it'd be nice to have a change of scenery."

He nodded and then glanced over at Hilda and Bobby, asking if they wanted anything. They said they were fine, and Betty and Daniel began to move toward the hallway when a man in scrubs walked toward them and asked, "Are you all the family of Ignacio Suarez?"

Betty inhaled sharply, immediately reaching for Daniel's hand. She realized a beat later what she had done, but when she went to pull away he gently squeezed her hand.

"We just finished Ignacio's surgery, and I'm happy to say it went very well."

Betty let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, and she glanced up at Daniel with a wide grin. Her dad was okay. He was somewhere in the hospital, very much alive, and she could be better. She could go to the dinners and call like she was supposed to. She had a second chance.

"His heart attack caused a rupture in the lining of his heart, but we were able to repair it. He's in recovery right now, and you should be able to see him soon."

"Thank you so much, Doctor," Hilda said, reaching forward and shaking his hand fervently. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. A nurse will come out and get you when he's ready for visitors."

The doctor walked back into the main hospital and Hilda walked toward Betty, a wide grin pulled on her face as she threw her arms around Betty, squeezing her tightly. Hilda sobered slightly as she hugged Betty and she murmured, "That was close. Too close, Betty."

"But, he's okay," Betty reminded her, pulling away slightly to look her sister in the eye.

Hilda nodded quickly, seemingly convincing herself with the excessive head nodding. "You're right. He's okay. But, oh, am I going to talk to Elena about what he's eating. I saw in his fridge all of these tacos and things that he shouldn't be eating!"

Betty heard Daniel's phone go off behind her and she turned around and watched him answer. His eyebrows furrowed together as he heard whatever was being said on the other line, and then he said, "Alright, alright, I'll be right there. Don't send anything to print until I look at it, okay?"

He hung up and Betty asked, "What's going on?"

"Some layouts got all messed up," he said, slipping the phone into the pocket of his suit. "I need to go and figure out what happened."

"Sure, okay. Thank you again for being here. I – " she stopped herself, remembering what he had said earlier. "My dad would be really touched that you stayed."

"You'll keep me updated on how he's doing?"

"Yeah, of course."

He paused for a moment and she felt a strong yearning to reach forward and press her cheek against his chest; feel his strong arms encircle her waist. She almost stepped toward him but then he was moving and telling her that he had to say goodbye to Hilda and Bobby. She nodded silently, staring down the hallway as he stepped around her and seeing nothing.

Betty went back with Hilda and Bobby to their house that night, wanting to be close with her family after everything that had happened. Bobby and Justin went to bed and Hilda tucked Ricky into his crib. After that it was just her and Betty on the couch, both sipping from glasses of wine with a bowl of Cool Ranch Doritos on the coffee table.

"So, what's going on with you and Daniel?" Hilda asked, crunchily biting a Dorito.

"What? Nothing?"

"I definitely sensed something at the hospital," Hilda pressed. "Sometimes the way you two would look at each other…" she trailed off, smiling a bit. "…it reminds me of Bobby and I."

"There's nothing between us," Betty said, taking a sip of her wine. "Believe me, that's not happening anytime soon."

"He visited you in London, didn't he? Right when you started down there?"

Betty nodded. "Yeah. But, we were friends. That's what friends do."

Hilda tilted her head to the side and said, "What's with the 'were', huh? He was here today."

Betty slouched on the couch, stretching her legs out and propping them on the table.

"Things are just different now. It's a long story."

"After a day like today, I could use a long story," Hilda said.

Betty hesitated. She never told Hilda the story, because she was afraid of what she would think. Telling Marc and Amanda was easy because they'd done things way worse than her all in one weekend. Then again, Hilda wasn't exactly a saint. But something about telling her sister was different. Her opinion mattered more.

"If you don't tell me now I'll just liquor you up and hear it later," Hilda said in a remarkably straight voice. Betty glanced at her sister and laughed at the look she was giving her.

"Okay, fine, but you can't judge me, okay?"

"No judgment," Hilda promised. "Now, what happened? Tell me!"

Betty told her the entire story, putting in even some details that she hadn't shared with Marc and Amanda. She told Hilda how right it had felt in the moment, and how something was there that she'd never had with Walter, Henry, or Gio. She told her about the next morning, and how she had almost asked him to stay. He looked so good in her bed with his hair all ruffled, but then she started to think about what would happen if he did stay, and how everything would be different.

"I really hurt him," Betty said, gaze down in her wine glass. "I didn't know I was even capable of hurting him, but I did. I was just so afraid of what would happen next. I didn't want to lose him, but that ended up happening anyway."

"Oh Betty," Hilda murmured. "You didn't lose him."

"Yeah, I kind of did. Things are so awkward at the office. We barely talk, and when we do it's these stilted sentences."

"He was here tonight. That counts for something."

Betty shook her head. "He was there for Dad, not me."

Hilda snorted and returned, "If you believe that, then you're as dense as Gina Gambarro."

Betty shrugged, leaning her head back against the cushion. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Before, all I wanted was to be his friend, but now just being friends wouldn't be enough."

"Betty, that matters. That matters a lot."

"No," she said, finishing her wine. She reached forward for the bottle and filled her glass up again. "He's engaged. To his new assistant." Hilda was silent and Betty said, "See? So, it doesn't really matter. It's done."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing right now," Hilda said, voice soft but hard. "You're giving up. After everything you two have gone through, you're just giving up?"

"There's no point, Hilda," Betty sighed. "He's marrying this tall, gorgeous glamazon-"

"And I bet he doesn't look at her the way he looks at you," Hilda interrupted. "Guys do not drop everything and go to another country for a girl because they're friends. They do it because they're in love."

"Hilda-"

"And you love him, too."

After everything that had happened that day, Betty didn't have the energy to argue. In any event, Hilda was right. She didn't know about the Danny part, but she did love him. As terrible a thing that was considering everything happening, she had no say in the matter. She couldn't stop loving him any more than she could stop her heart beating.

"Don't you dare give up," Hilda said. "You're a Suarez. We don't give up."


	5. Chapter 5

Betty sat at Hilda's kitchen table, absentmindedly shoveling spoonful after spoonful of Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby into her mouth. Hilda bounced Ricky on her knee, wiping some spittle off his chin as she told Betty, "I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm cutting you off after your next spoonful."

"When did you become the ice cream patrol?"

"Uh, after you started coming here after work every day and eating all of it. That was a new pint, Betty. And you're a third…" she leaned over and looked into the ice cream pint, "…nope, half way through it. That ice cream doesn't just magically appear in our freezer."

"I'll buy you more ice cream," Betty returned. "And I haven't been coming here that often."

"You've been here every day this week," Hilda returned pointedly. "Not that I mind having my baby sister around. You know I love you. But…something is going on. Tell me."

"It's nothing. Really. It's…"

"Betty."

"It's Daniel," Betty admitted. Ever since her father's stint in the hospital, things had been decidedly chilly between her and Daniel. She'd hoped it would bring them closer. He was there for her, like he always was before, but it only seemed to make him pull away more. They'd barely spoken two words to each other the entire week.

"Aha! I knew it," Hilda said. "Something happened, didn't it? I knew it was only a matter of time. Especially with him coming to see Papi in the hospital all those times, and –"

"Wait, Daniel visited Dad in the hospital?" Betty asked in confusion.

Hilda nodded. "Yeah, he was there almost every day. You didn't know?"

Betty shook her head. "I had no idea."

"He did always go at odd times," Hilda said. "I only saw him there once when I dropped by the hospital between haircuts. Tina Gonzalez cancelled last minute. She said she was sick, which we all know is code for hungover."

"Wait, you saw Daniel there? Why didn't you tell me?"

Hilda shrugged. "I thought you knew. I mean, why would he hide that?"

"I don't know," Betty said slowly. Except, she did know. Telling her that he was visiting her father in the hospital would prove that he cared, which he was doing a pretty decedent job of disproving lately. "Why would he even visit Papi?"

"Maybe he was hoping to see you?"

"He was not hoping to see me," Betty said definitively. "He can see me any time he wants at work, and he actively avoids that."

"Maybe he's too busy at work."

"Yeah, well, apparently not too busy to randomly go pay Papi visits at the hospital. You know what, this is so like him. He acts one way and then does things like this."

"Betty, come on –"

"No, this is what he does," Betty continued, her blood pressure rising as the rant took hold of her. "He does something completely opposite, so you have no idea how he actually feels, or what he's thinking, and…you just feel helpless, because you don't know where you stand, or where he stands, and you're left with this very real, very awful possibility that you'll never know, and…he'll never forgive you." She pushed the ice cream way from her, wide eyes turning to her sister. "Hilda, he's never going to forgive me. I messed up. God, I messed up, and I don't know how to fix it. He followed me to London."

"I know, mami," Hilda said, covering Betty's hand with her own.

"He left behind everything. Maybe it was for me, maybe it wasn't, but he was there…and we…" she shook her head, "…I shouldn't have let it happen. I should have realized what a terrible idea it was and stopped it before it happened."

"Betty, it wasn't a terrible idea. You two were heading toward that for a while. I saw the way he looked at you at my wedding. What happened in London was no accident."

"I dined and ditched him," Betty said, voice soft.

"Yeah, you did. Not one of your finer moments."

"Hilda, you're supposed to be making me feel better."

"No, I'm not. I'm supposed to be helping you. You were scared. Taking that leap with someone can be scary. Especially with as much history as you and Daniel had. You didn't handle it well, but you can't change that. It happened."

"So, what do I do?"

"You guys need to talk about what happened."

"He won't talk to me about that," Betty said immediately. "If I even try, he'll walk away."

"Then make it where he can't walk away," Hilda said. "You said that Marc and Amanda were always doing schemes and stuff when you worked at Mode. Have them lock you two in an office, a closet, whatever. Just make it happen. You both will be better off."

"It's not a terrible idea," Betty said. "Except for the part where he's going to hate me."

"He will not hate you, Betty," Hilda said. "The man was secretly visiting your father in the hospital. That wasn't just for Papi's sake. Believe me. I heard at the last few visits, Papi started trying to explain telenovelas to him."

Betty winced. "Papi's synopses were always a bit lacking. He spends too long explaining peripheral characters."

Hilda smirked. "He couldn't hate you if he tried."

"I guess it can't hurt to try."

Betty pulled her phone out of her purse and sent a quick text to Amanda and Marc: I need your help.

BBBBBB

"Hold on, so you want us to lock you and Daniel in a room so you guys can talk?" Amanda repeated. "That's so boring."

Betty rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't know how else to solve this. He won't talk to me on his own, so, we'll do it this way."

"You do realize he still might stonewall you," Marc said. "Oh, you know what we can do?"

"Lace his morning coffee with pills so that his natural defenses are down and he talks?" Amanda offered.

Marc gave her a look. "No. Although, the coffee part isn't a bad idea. We could ply him with coffee right before the rendezvous. Nothing makes someone talk more than a full bladder. But, I was going to say we could get Claire Meade involved. That woman loves meddling in her son's life. Especially when you're involved."

"Look, let's just stick with the original plan," Betty said. "I'll be in the closet. You guys bring him down with some ruse and lock us in. We talk. Air is cleared. Bam, problem solved."

Marc put his arm around Betty's shoulder, leading her toward the front door of her apartment. "Oh, Betty, you sweet and naïve chimichanga. Leave the scheming to Amanda and I. You just be where we tell you, when we tell you, and everything will go according to plan. I didn't slave under the brilliant – and often demoralizing – gaze of Wilhelmina Slater without learning a few tricks." He opened the door. "Now, go on and get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you."

Betty turned back and said, "You do realize I live here, and not you guys, right?"

Marc blinked rapidly. "Oh, right." He grabbed Amanda's arm and skirted around Betty out into the hallway. "Don't worry about a thing. Amanda and I have got this."

"Yeah, we do," Amanda said. She looked up at Marc. "She wants us to lock them in a room so they can finally do it, right?"

Marc sighed. "Come on, Amanda. We have work to do."

Betty hardly slept that night, and when she went into work the next day she could think of nothing else except for the forthcoming conversation, and whether it would mean another night of tossing and turning. Thankfully, she had edits to distract her for most of the morning, but as the time approached – 2:00 p.m., based on a cryptic email from Marc – she felt her focus shifting. Maybe she shouldn't have planned this. What if he refused to talk, and they just sat in there in complete silence? Or what if they did talk? What if he said it was a mistake, just like she did, but he actually meant it?

Honestly, she would have chickened out if Marc didn't show up at her office and bring her down to the closet.

"I had a feeling you were going to bail," Marc said on the elevator ride up to Mode. "And I can't handle another six months of Daniel talk, so you're doing this."

"No, I'm glad I'm doing this," Betty said resolutely. She sounded more confident than she felt. "This is what we need. We're clearing the air once and for all. We're going to sort through what happened and –"

"Oh my God, I'm already sick of hearing about it," Marc groaned. "Were you like this with that Henry guy, too? Thank God we weren't friends back then. I would have killed myself. Or you."

"You're being sort of mean right now."

"I'm sorry, I know. It's the scheming," Marc said. "Puts me into that frame of mind."

Betty nodded. "Huh, okay. I'll keep that in mind for future schemes."

They walked carefully through Mode, cautious as to not run into Daniel on their way to the closet. Amanda waited for them there, stroking her face with a Valentino pump when they walked in.

"Amanda, seriously?"

"Don't judge! It was just sitting there. How was I not supposed to feel it up? I'm only human."

Marc rolled his eyes. "Come on, we have to get Daniel over here."

"How are you guys doing that?" Betty asked.

Marc held up a hand. "The less you know the better."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Trust in the scheme, Betty. We know what we're doing."

"We totally do," Amanda said. "By the way, if you two want to use my mom's sex dungeon while you're in here…I'm totally okay with it."

Betty looked at Amanda strangely, and slowly said, "I don't really think we'll be needing a sex dungeon, but thanks."

Amanda smiled brightly. "You're welcome."

"Come on, Mandy," Marc said. "We have a Meade to catch."

BBBBB

Betty walked through the closet, letting her fingers run along the expensive clothes as she thought of all the time she spent in here while she was at Mode. It wasn't the same without Christina. She wondered if Daniel felt the same way when she left. Just as that thought flitted through her mind, she heard the door open and Daniel barged in. She was hidden behind a rack of clothes, but between a Chanel suit and Dior cocktail dress, she watched him look around in confusion, and then turn back to Amanda and Marc.

"Hey, I thought you said George Clooney was down here," Daniel said.

"Yeah, that was a lie," Marc said.

"So, he doesn't want to partner for a private jet advertisement?" Daniel asked, downtrodden by the turn of events.

"Of course he doesn't want to partner for a private jet advertisement," Marc returned. "He's George freaking Clooney. Honestly, this was almost too easy."

"What makes you think he wouldn't want to do a private jet advertisement with me? I'm just as cool as him."

Marc rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."

"I definitely am. I – hold on, what do you mean it was too easy?"

Taking her cue, Betty walked out from behind the rack and said, "Hi Daniel."

"Betty, what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

She could see the usual mask clicking into place, and he swallowed hard before saying, "This really isn't a good time. I have a lot of work to do. Maybe another time." He turned back toward the door, but Marc and Amanda had already stepped out and closed them. Daniel watched in disbelief as Marc secured the door with his own belt, looping it around the handles and buckling it tightly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Daniel murmured.

"I'm sorry that it had to be this way, but I didn't know what else to do," Betty said.

"This was your idea?" Daniel asked, turning toward her.

"Not all of it. The locking in a room, yes. But, the rest was all Marc and Amanda."

"I have a magazine to run, Betty. I can't just be locked in a room like this until whenever you decide it's a good time for us to leave. People up there are depending on me."

"Do you have your phone?" Betty asked.

"Of course I do."

"Then, if there is any emergency they can call you," Betty returned levelly. "And I have a magazine to run, too, but this is important. Things are not good between us, Daniel. They're really not good. I thought they were getting better before, with my dad sick and you being there for me, but I think they've actually gotten worse. I can feel us growing farther apart, Daniel, and the only way that I can think of to stop that is to talk about what happened. So, we are not leaving this room until we talk about London."

"There's nothing to talk about. We grew apart, so what? It happens. I think we have a good working relationship."

"Daniel, you barely acknowledge me."

"I've been busy."

"Not too busy to visit my dad almost every day at the hospital," Betty returned.

He was surprised by that and stammered, "You-you know about that?"

"Yeah, Hilda told me. I'm sort of wondering why you didn't. But, it doesn't matter. It's just part of the larger picture of you and me having this space between us. We used to be so close, Daniel. And, I know I messed up. I know that I hurt you, but can't we move past that? Can't we just move on?"

"No, Betty, we can't," Daniel returned suddenly. "We can't just move on. When we – " he broke off, jaw tense, "- when London happened, I was the happiest I'd been since Molly. I never thought I could have that sort of connection again, but I did. And I was happy. I was so happy, Betty, and then you told me it was all a mistake. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

"Daniel," she murmured.

"Before anything happened, I asked you if it was what you wanted. I asked you if you were ready to take the next step, and you said yes. You said yes, Betty, and then you took it back."

"I was scared."

"Do you think I wasn't? You were new territory for me, Betty. Completely new. Everything about you and us was different from what I'd had before, but, I was willing to take the risk. For you. For us."

"I wanted it, too," she said. "I wanted it more than I even realized. But, after it happened I just kept thinking about what would happen if it didn't work out, and what that would mean for us. You know how I get. I was so scared of losing you. I just got you back in my life, and I didn't want to take that risk. Please tell me you can understand that."

"I can," Daniel relented. "But it doesn't change anything."

"Daniel –"

"It can't change anything," he said, voice hard. "I have to be this way with you, because if I'm any other way it'd be too easy to fall back into those old patterns. I can't go through that again. Especially now with Reed. After what happened, we need the distance. There's no other way."

"There has to be," she murmured, feeling her stomach twist. She could hear the finality in his words, but she couldn't believe them. There had to be another way. "We don't need to get back to exactly where we were before. But this…this isn't a relationship."

"I know," he said. "I can't have a relationship with you, Betty."

She blinked rapidly. "You can't be serious."

"I'll say hello to you if we walk past each other by security. I'll make pleasant conversation if we're in the elevator, but I can't do more than that. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

"But, when my dad was in the hospital –"

"That was a mistake," Daniel said. "And it only went to prove why we need this distance."

"So, that's it? Those four years of friendship mean nothing?" Betty asked. Her voice wavered and she hated herself for it.

"No, they don't mean nothing," Daniel said, his voice pained. "The problem is they mean too much."

Betty nodded, inwardly willing the tears that she could feel pressing at the back of her eyes to stay in place. She straightened up and said, "Okay, then. I guess we're done here."

"I guess we are."

She walked past him and knocked on the glass door twice, paused and then knocked once more. Marc appeared and pulled his belt from the door handles. He opened the doors and Daniel walked out, his quick gait informing Marc as to the results of the conversation.

"So, I'm guessing it didn't go well?" Marc asked delicately.

"He wants nothing to do with me."

"Aw, Betty, come here," Marc said, pulling her into a hug. Amanda joined them and asked, "Want me to pick out a pair of shoes for you to steal? There are some hideous peacock feather ones in the back that are so your style."

"No, I'm fine," Betty said, pulling away from Marc and wiping at her eyes. "I'm an adult. I don't need everyone to like me."

"But he's not everyone," Marc said.

"No, he's not," she agreed softly.


	6. Chapter 6

Betty walked into Meade Publications, trying to balance her coffee cup in the crook of her elbow as she held her onion bagel in one hand and searched through her purse for her badge with the other. Someone knocked into her, nearly flipping her coffee onto the ground. Her coffee was saved in the last moment, but her bagel was not. It dropped onto the floor, onion bits getting all over the pristine white marble floor.

"No, not the bagel," Betty said morosely, crouching down to pick up the remnants.

"I'm so sorry," Reed said, joining her on the ground.

"Oh, Reed, hi," Betty said.

Reed's face shifted when she recognized Betty and she straightened up and said, "I didn't see it was you. Sorry about your bagel."

"It's probably for the best," Betty sighed. "I have a morning meeting. Nothing wards off potential advertisers than onion breath. Anyway, how are you?"

"I'm fine," she said shortly. "I'm sorry, I have to get upstairs."

"Um, okay," Betty said. Reed rushed off through security and Betty murmured, "So do I."

She followed Reed through security and ended up next to her in the elevator. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Reed said.

"Are you sure? Because you seem a bit –"

"Look, Betty, I'm fine," Reed snapped. Noticing the way Betty winced, Reed took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"It's fine," Betty said. Without thinking she said, "Sleep deprived moments of bitchiness happen to the best of us." Betty's eyes widened when she realized what she said. "Not that you were being bitchy. You totally weren't. You were just –"

"No, I was," Reed interrupted. "Bitchy, that is."

The elevator stopped and Reed gave Betty a waning smile. "Here's hoping both of our days get better?"

"Yeah. See you later."

Betty got off the elevator, already wondering what treats were in the kitchen, when Claire Meade appeared, taking a hold of her arm and saying, "Betty, thank God, you're here. I need to talk with you."

"Oh, okay. Um, can we talk on the way to the kitchen? I had a bagel accident in the lobby this morning, and –"

"Betty, I'm worried about Daniel."

Betty blanched, thinking about her and Daniel's conversation last week in the closet. Did he tell Claire? It didn't seem like something he would do, but Claire had a way of getting things out of him.

"Why are you worried about him?" Betty asked carefully.

"I went by his office this morning and he wasn't in there. Apparently he hasn't been there all morning."

Betty laughed a bit and said, "Well, Mrs. Meade, it's only 8:30. When I worked for him, he only showed up before nine if he was coming from someone's apartment." Catching's Claire's disapproving gaze, Betty said, "I probably could have not shared that with you. But, honestly, I'm sure he's fine."

"You don't understand Betty, we had a meeting scheduled at 8:00 with one of our most important investors. Daniel was supposed to be there. He was running the meeting."

Betty frowned. "Well, maybe he forgot?"

"Betty, something is wrong," Claire said, squeezing Betty's arm. "I can feel it. We need to find him."

"Well, why don't we go ask Reed? She'll probably know where he is."

Claire shook her head. "I ran into her on my way down here. She said I should talk to you."

Betty shook her head in confusion. "Why would she say that?"

"I don't know. Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"No. But, I'm sure he'll show up. He probably just overslept or something. You know how Daniel is with his sleep. He probably just slept through his alarm, or –"

"Betty, he did not sleep through his alarm," Claire said, voice low. "Daniel is in trouble. I know something is going on between you two. I heard about the closet."

"You what? How –"

"Betty, it doesn't matter. I know things are _difficult_ between you two, but you have always been there for each other when it counts. He needs you right now."

Betty pressed her lips together, her stomach coiling uncomfortably. "You really think he's in trouble, don't you?"

Claire nodded.

"Okay. I'll make some calls."

* * *

"I can't believe Daniel's gone missing," Marc said, sprawled out on the couch in Betty's office. "What a drama queen."

"Marc, I'm worried," Betty said, crossing another name off of her list. She had a list of telephone calls in one column and in the other column a list of places she'd need to go to in person. She was more than three quarters through the call list and nowhere closer to finding Daniel.

"He's probably just passed out in his apartment after too much champagne and 25 years olds."

Betty shot him a look. "You're not helping."

"And you're overreacting," Marc returned. "I know Crazy Claire is convinced something is wrong, but did you ever just consider that he just skipped work?"

"He had that meeting with the investors," Betty pointed out.

"Yes, a meeting that Wilhelmina could easily, and happily, run without him," Marc said.

"Daniel wouldn't miss that meeting," Betty said. "Besides, I had his doorman, Roger, check the apartment and he wasn't there."

Marc wrinkled his nose. "You know his doorman?"

"Daniel had me bring his dry cleaning to his apartment a lot," Betty answered defensively. "Anyway, instead of arguing with me do you think you could try helping? Here, look at this list." She pushed it toward him as she dialed the next number. "Can you think of any other numbers?"

"Maybe he's gone all crazy Order of the Phoenix again," Marc offered brightly.

"Again. Not helping." Betty's phone beeped with another call, and she looked at her screen to find Hilda's number flashing. She quickly switched over and said, "Hilda, I can't talk long. Daniel's missing and –"

"I can tell you where your old boss is."

Betty blinked rapidly. "Really? Where?"

"He's at _Papi_ ' _s_ kitchen table eating all of our _arroz con pollo_."

"He's in Queens?" Betty asked, garnering a disgusted look from Marc. "Okay, make sure he doesn't go anywhere. I'll be right there."

"Okay. Hurry before he starts in on the _flan_."

Betty hung up and said, "So, Daniel is in Queens. At my dad's house."

"Huh. Maybe he did crack."

Betty stood up and said, "Okay, I'm going to go down there and try to figure out what's going on. Can you tell Claire that I found him and I'll call her after I know more?"

Marc pressed his lips together and tentatively said, "You know, I was going to check out the sale at Barney's."

"Marc!"

"Fine," he sighed. "Go check on Daniel. I'll tell Claire that you're with him."

* * *

Betty took a town car up to Queens, nervously watching the scenery change as she wondered what Daniel being at her childhood home meant. He had been firm when they last talked. They couldn't have a relationship. No relationship. No friendship. His intentions were clear, but now she wasn't sure. The car pulled to a stop in front of her house and she climbed out, taking a deep breath before walking up the familiar front steps. Before she could knock, Hilda pulled open the door.

"It took you long enough."

"There was traffic," Betty answered defensively. "Is he still here?"

Hilda stepped back to let Betty in and told her, "He's out back with _Papi_. He ate almost an entire plate of flan. What's with that office and stress eaters?"

"So, he seems stressed?"

"He didn't seem great," Hilda returned. "Did something else happen between you two?"

"No. He, uh, made it pretty clear that he wanted distance so that's what I've been doing. Giving him distance."

"Well, I don't think he wants distance anymore."

Betty tucked her hair behind her ears. "I guess not. I should go talk with him."

"Good luck."

Betty walked out to the back porch, taking some comfort in the distant sound of her father's voice. When she stepped outside she saw Daniel and Ignacio seated on the back steps, neither talking.

"Do you guys have room for one more over there?" she asked.

Ignacio looked back and smiled warmly. "Betty, it's good to see you. Your timing couldn't be more perfect, I was just going to head inside."

He slowly stood up, Daniel lending a hand, before heading back inside. He stopped momentarily to kiss Betty's cheek, and then went indoors. She moved forward and sat next to Daniel.

"I didn't know you were such a fan of Queens," she said.

"I wanted to get away from Manhattan," he answered.

"Well, Queens is definitely not Manhattan. I love it here, but couldn't you have found somewhere better to escape Manhattan? Don't you have a private jet?"

Daniel smiled a bit. "I always liked it here. It's like going to a completely different city. Without the private jet."

"Are you okay? Your mom came to talk to me. She said you missed a really important meeting this morning."

"I called Wilhelmina and asked her to do the meeting by herself," Daniel said. "She was more than happy to oblige."

"I'm sure she was." Betty thought about her unusual exchange with Reed that morning and asked, "Did, uh, something happen with you and Reed?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I ran into her this morning. Well, she more ran into me. Literally. She said something about not sleeping well. I thought maybe it had to do with the same thing that sent you running to Queens?"

Daniel didn't answer for a moment and she gently prodded, "Daniel."

"She called off the engagement."

"What? Why?"

Daniel shifted next to her, pulling a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket. "She found this."

"A letter?"

"Not just any letter," Daniel said slowly. "A letter that I wrote to you after London."

"You didn't write me any letters when I was in London," Betty said immediately. She would have remembered that.

"No, I wrote you one. I just didn't send it."

"Oh," Betty breathed out. She watched him unfold and then refold the letter. The creases in the letter were deep and well-worn, like he'd folded and unfolded the letter a dozen times before.

"There was so much I wanted to say to you before I left, but I couldn't. I was too close to it all to really sort out what I was feeling, what I was thinking. A month or so after I got back to New York, I finally sat down and wrote it all out. "

"What did you write about," Betty asked tentatively.

"I wrote about us. Why I went to London. Why I couldn't stay. I wrote about that night and what it meant to me. What _you_ meant to me."

"It sounds like a nice letter," she said weakly.

"Reed found it in my dresser. She was upset. She told me that she couldn't believe I never told her about you, especially when Meade Publications acquired your magazine. She said if I hid that from her I probably was hiding other things, too."

"That's ridiculous," Betty said. "Look, just tell her that was all in the past. You wrote that letter two years ago. We'll tell her that whatever is in that letter – it's not true anymore. It –"

"Betty, stop."

"She's probably still at the office. We'll go there. We can fix this!"

"No, we can't."

"Daniel –"

"It's still true," he said forcefully. "All of it. Everything in that letter is still true." He turned his gaze to her. "It always has been."

"Daniel, I…I don't know what to say."

"I know," he said, bracing his hand on the stoop between them as he stood up. "I should head back to the office before my mother sends out a search party."

"Are-are you sure you're ready to go back?" she asked. "I mean, my dad probably has another pan of flan in there."

"I've eaten enough of your family's food for one day," Daniel said. He looked down at the letter in his hand and then held it out to her. "Here, you should have this. I figure with all the trouble this stupid letter caused me, it might as well be read by the intended recipient. I'll see you later, Betty."

She watched him leave and then turned back to the empty yard, her fingers curled around the letter. She opened it slowly, feeling lightheaded as she read Daniel's words. She read the letter two more times before Hilda came out and sat next to her. Betty handed her the letter wordlessly. Hilda read the letter quickly.

"Wow. Just, _wow_. Betty, this is, like, straight out of a telenovela. What the hell are you still doing here?"

"What?"

"Go after him!" Hilda said.

"He wrote that letter two years ago. It doesn't mean he still feels that way." She left out the fact that he pretty much told her that he did. Hilda didn't need any more convincing than the letter, though. She took a hold of Betty's shoulders and said, "You are not this dumb, Betty. He loves you. I don't know what is holding you back, but you need to get the hell over it, because you have a man out there who loves you. A man who _really_ loves you, and you can't waste that."

"He loves me," Betty murmured.

"Oh my God, enough!" Hilda said, smacking Betty's arm. "Go. To. Him."

"Okay, I'm going to him!" Betty said, smiling wide. Ignacio appeared at the doorway and asked excitedly, "You're going after Daniel? Finally!"

Hilda clapped her hands together happily and then said, "This family really needs to find better entertainment."

* * *

Betty stepped out of the elevator the Mode offices, feeling as if her heart would beat straight out of her chest. She was relieved to see a temp where Reed normally sat. Daniel was back in his office, poring over a tall stack of edits for the next issue. She paused at his doorway, not realizing that her head was directly at one of the glass circles until he said, "Betty, I can see you there."

"Oh boy," she breathed out. "You can do this, Betty. He loves you. Daniel Meade loves you."

Pep talk complete, she opened the door and stepped in. He smiled hesitantly and said, "Hello Betty. What brings you to Mode?"

She pulled his letter out of her purse. "I thought I should bring this back."

"Keep it," he said, eyes softening. "It was meant for you, anyway."

"Okay," she said, slipping it back into her purse. When she pulled her hand out, it held a newer letter on yellow legal paper. She walked forward slowly and held the letter out toward him.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I wrote you back."

He smiled slightly. "You what?"

"I wrote you back," she repeated. "It's not as…wordy…as yours, but I think it gets my point across."

"I've never been good at editing my own work. I always had you for that."

He took the letter from her and slowly unfolded it. She watched him read it, anxiously waiting for his response. She could see her carefully written words backwards through the yellow paper.

_I made a mistake._

_I love you, too._

Betty watched him slowly fold the letter and place it in a drawer of his desk. He looked up at her and asked, "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

She shook her head.

"Good." He stood up and walked around his desk. "Come on, I'm taking you for a slice."

She grinned. "Okay. Lead the way."

She followed him out into the hallway and toward the elevators. Betty caught Marc's eye and he gave her a thumbs up. Her and Daniel didn't talk as they waited for the elevators, but she was acutely aware of his every movement. She scratched the back of her ear nervously, and could feel his gaze follow the path of her hand. The elevator doors opened and they both stepped in, the doors barely closing before Daniel took a hold of Betty's waist and pressed his mouth against hers.


End file.
